


No One Has It Figured Out

by Sybilina



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, F/M, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2341976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybilina/pseuds/Sybilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: Bodyswap.  Wherein Malia gets hit by a witch's spell and wakes up as the wrong spoon.</p>
<p>Less crack than you'd imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Has It Figured Out

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the 40 Fics in 80 Days Challenge.

It was one in the morning and the pack was in the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store fighting off an angry witch.

In other words, it was a typical Friday night in Beacon Hills.

Stiles fell tumbling past Malia and she bared her teeth as waves of protectiveness rolled over her. She bounded her way off the boulders nearby like stepping stones, leaping her way towards the witch, who was weaving in the air to dodge the electricity bolts Kira was shooting at her. 

A blast of hot air shot past her and through her, limbs tingling as she was knocked off balance. Stiles called her name but it was distant and she shook her head to clear her thoughts, realizing suddenly that she was full coyote. Again, she bared her teeth and hunkered down, looking for the witch.

Scott was yelling directions at Stiles, who was yelling back, and Malia couldn't tell if they were arguing or agreeing in their back-and-forth. Sometimes with them, they seemed to be doing both at the same time.

Derek came barreling past her, his wolf form slick and dark in the night. Malia kept up with him, wanting to get a bite out of the creature who'd hurt Stiles, but all that was left were clothes.

A molotov cocktail flew past her and the witch screamed in pain. 

For the last week, they'd been chasing the witch, not trying to hurt her at first until she took a swipe at Parrish, landing him in the hospital with more injuries than he would have sustained in a car accident. Apparently, his powers didn't extend to supernatural healing. The others had come back to Derek's loft after visiting him in the hospital to find Lydia and Stiles bent over plans of attack and, when Scott had brought up the idea of negotiating one more time, both of them had exploded into arguments and cursing.

Of course, the first attack was a bust, leaving both Scott and Derek in bed healing for days and Lydia had sustained a concussion.

She heard Kira sheath her sword as she stepped up next to her. “Well, that's that,” she said.

“Another one bites the dust,” Liam added. Scott had been hesitant about letting him join but Liam was quickly learning how to pull puppy dog eyes on Scott. 

“She's not dead,” Lydia said.

“Where'd she go?” Scott asked, Stiles limping up behind him. Malia nosed at him, trying to assess the damage.

“You can turn back, Malia. I think she's gone for now,” Stiles said, petting her. 

“Well, wherever she is, we'll be ready for her next time,” Kira said, slipping an arm around Scott's waist.

“I don't like it when she disappears,” Derek said. Just last night, the witch had appeared in his loft and, from what he'd said, she'd been hovering just feet over his bed. No wonder he didn't like it when she disappeared.

“Seriously, there are clothes in the jeep,” Stiles said to her. She huffed, though she wasn't sure if it had its desired effect, as she turned and loped over to the jeep.

By the time Stiles was done discussing their next course of action with the others, Malia was in the jeep, still in coyote form, sitting on the front seat.

“Are you feeling nostalgic tonight?” he asked her.

She turned and growled. As much as she liked her coyote form, the one thing it lacked was the ability to communicate with humans. She'd been in the car trying to shift for several minutes but every time the shift started, she remembered Stiles tumbling past her and then her hackles rose and she bared her teeth at nothing.

Luckily, having him in the car with her helped ease her mind and by the time they pulled into Stiles's driveway, she was back to human and slipping a t-shirt over her head.

“You okay?” Stiles asked softly as he held the front door open for her.

“I should be asking you that, you're the one still limping.”

“Twisted my ankle. Just need some ice and I'll be fine,” he said. Then he tugged the bottom of her shirt to pull her closer to him. “Why did it take you so long to shift back?”

She shrugged. “Go upstairs, I'll get the ice.”

He put a thumb under her chin. “That was the first time you've shifted in a few months, wasn't it? Like, a complete shift.”

“Yeah.”

“I'll help you work on it, if you want. Shifting back and forth. So you don't feel stuck or anything.”

She frowned at him. “Who says I feel stuck?”

“I didn't mean...”

But a fire that she'd been quenching for months suddenly spurned to life. “You don't get it, Stiles. The coyote is a part of who I am. I don't feel stuck in that body, I feel stuck in this one, yet I am constantly bending over backwards trying to be exactly the kind of human you and everyone else thinks I should be.”

Stiles looked like she'd slapped him, his cheeks slightly red, his jaw dropped a little in shock. She pushed him gently in the shoulder, suddenly feeling horrible. “Go upstairs, I'll get your ice,” she mumbled.

His footsteps seemed to echo loudly in the otherwise quiet house as she put the ice in a bag and folded it up into a towel.

The bedroom was dark but she could see Stiles sitting up in his bed, the pillows propped behind him.

“Malia, that's not what I meant,” he started when she got close.

She put a finger to his lips and then kissed him before pulling the blankets back and kneeling above his leg facing his ankle, hovering so she wasn't putting too much weight on him. His hand found her back and she was grateful that even though he wasn't a supernatural being addicted to physical touch, he was still as tactile as one. “I didn't mean it. Or. I did but... it's difficult because I'm both.” She inspected his ankle, feeling her claws extend as she realized how swollen it already was. Carefully, she placed the ice over his ankle, hearing him hiss and then sigh in relief. Then she picked herself up enough to turn back around, letting him take her weight this time as she sat in his lap. “I'm the coyote and I'm the human. But I feel like I can't be both at the same time and it drives me up the wall. I don't always know how to separate them. I... sometimes I have nightmares where I'm trying to give you a kiss, a human kiss, and I don't realize I'm the coyote until...” She shuddered, remembering the dreams and the blood. Stiles's arms tightened around her waist. “Or other times, when I'm human, I try to smell things out or see things far away. I can still see and smell really well but it's nowhere near as well as when I'm in full coyote form. It makes me feel... powerless. I don't like feeling powerless, especially in my own body.”

Stiles pulled her down to kiss him and she went with it easily. “You're not powerless. You're one of the most powerful people I know and that's saying something considering the pack I run with.”

She wanted to smile with him and accept his trying to make her feel better. “Sometimes I feel like you don't understand, though. Like you want more from me than I'm able to give.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. “No, no Malia, you do your best and that's plenty. I get that.”

His heart didn't skip but that didn't mean it was a lie, it just meant he believed it, even if she knew it wasn't true. She let the smile paint her face anyway, and she leaned down to kiss him again, this time adding tongue.

Crushing her to him, he tightened his arms and ran his hand up her back to cup her neck, moaning as she pushed her hips down into his.

Then he made a high pitched squeak and she smelled a flare of pain, and she instantly threw her hands to the side so her claws wouldn't injure Stiles.

He glanced at her hands, breathing heavy from the pain. “Okay, let's try that again. I just have to remember not to move.”

“How about this,” she said, moving them quickly but gently so he was laying down on his side, his foot propped up with the ice around his ankle, and she was behind him, her front pressed to his back.

“No,” he whined. “We were going to have sexy times, I love sexy times after a big fight oh...” he said as he felt her hand slide under his boxers.

“I'll take care of you,” she said softly. Then she kissed the spot behind his ear. “I'll always take care of you.” 

 

-

 

She knew something was wrong the instant she woke up. Instantly, she looked at her hands to see if she'd shifted during the night, something she always feared but so far hadn't happened yet.

It didn't look right though. Her hands. She shifted slightly, feeling Stiles behind her, and she felt for his arms, wondering if he was awake and messing with her.

But his arms felt weird. His arms were hairy and coarse, and thick with muscles, but the arms she was feeling were small and smooth. She looked down, feeling like she was in some sort of weird mirror maze, like the one Stiles had dragged her to in the middle of summer at the state fair just a few months prior. Thick hands rubbed up and down smooth arms even though it should have been small hands rubbing up and down coarse arms.

Then she shoved her hand under the blanket and felt between her legs.

“Oh,” she said softly. Then she said it again, louder. “Oh.” The voice that came out of her was deep and weird sounding and she rolled over to find herself looking at her own face. Curiosity got the best of her as she zeroed in on every little bump, every pore, and every eyelash. She looked different and yet, the same.

Then her eyes opened. She could see the instant panic set in and felt it as her claws dug into her back. Stiles's back.

“What the hell?” It sounded weird coming from her but hearing with Stiles's ears.

She sniffed and frowned at the fact that she couldn't smell him. “Stiles?”

“I'm Stiles,” he said with her voice. “I'm Stiles but I'm looking at me.” Then realization dawned on him. “Malia? Is that you?”

She nodded slowly. “So um. You're in my body.”

He stared at her for a few seconds before dissolving into uncontrollable laughter. 

She grinned back at him. “And I know what a boner feels like now. From this side,” she said looking pointedly down the blankets.

“Oh my god, my morning wood,” he said between laughs. Then he stopped laughing as he shoved a hand beneath the blankets, stopping suddenly. “Am I allowed to...?”

“You've done it plenty of other times,” she said. “Why are you shy now?”

His face seemed to do a thing as she saw the blankets shift slightly, where he was looking off into the distance, categorizing what he was feeling, for several seconds before his lips formed an 'O.' “Oh my god,” he said.

“You find it?” she asked.

“It's different from this angle but I just did what you always like me to do and...” He moaned brokenly and she blinked at how hot it sounded. How hot she sounded. Suddenly, she wanted to rut against him, to feel how wet he was.

Then she grabbed his wrist. “What are we doing? You're in my body and I'm in yours and the first thing we do is play with ourselves? Seriously?”

He stopped for a moment and looked at her a little sheepishly. “We probably should call Scott, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said.

He turned around in bed before realizing that his place in bed, and therefore his phone, was on the other side. Leaning up and over her to grab his phone and she was suddenly given a face full of boobs, which she couldn't resist touching. 

“Malia!” he said.

“What?” she said as he fell back into his spot and scowled at her. She felt a twinge in her ankle as she moved but she ignored it as she maneuvered herself to cover him, lifting his shirt to get better access. “It's practically the same thing as masturbating.”

“I think it might be a little diff-fuck, wow, what the hell was that?” he said as she thumbed a nipple.

“Make your phone call,” she said, waiting until he had the phone to his ear before lowering her mouth to cover the nipple.

“Fuck!” he yelled. “Scott, hey, hi, what's up, how you doing?”

Malia grinned as she worked the nipple, Stiles's hand going up to his mouth to bite on it and keep the sounds in. Then she used her hand to reach up and fondle the other breast.

“No, it's... oh, yeah, shit, hold on,” he said. “Scott wants to talk to you, Stiles,” he said, handing the phone off to her.

Malia pulled off with a pop and frowned, realizing their blunder. She accepted the phone and fell back against the pillows. “Scott, hi!” she said.

She should have known turn around was fair play as Stiles grinned at her, disappearing completely beneath the blankets. She grit her teeth but grinned, wondering how it would feel from this side.

“Stiles, is something wrong?” Scott asked.

She jerked up as Stiles's thumb ghosted over her cock.

“Stiles?”

“Right, that's me. Um. Well. Something isn't right,” she said, stuttering over the last word as Stiles's mouth swallowed her dick.

“What's going on?” Scott asked and she could hear the worry in his voice.

“I'm not Stiles,” she said.

Stiles whipped the blanket over his head so he could glare at her and she remembered that Stiles had been the nogitsune.

“It's Malia,” she said. “I think... I think we swapped bodies?”

Stiles lifted an eyebrow before going back to town and Malia had to stifle a moan at the sight of a cock disappearing into her own mouth. That was something she never thought she'd be into and yet, here she was.

“Swapped bodies?” Scott asked.

“Yeah. You should,” she said, pausing to cough and glare at Stiles. “You should come over. Maybe bring Deaton.”

Stiles released her to momentarily grab the phone. “But hey, dude, take your time, no rush. And uh... call before you get here, okay?”

Malia grabbed the phone long enough to hear Scott mutter, “Wow, TMI dude, TMI,” before he hung up.

Then she let herself moan brokenly the way she'd been wanting to since Stiles disappeared beneath the covers.

“Dude, my dad's home,” Stiles whispered. “I can hear him snoring. I can never hear him snoring. Is he louder or am I... oh. You can hear stuff like this all the time?” He sat up and looked around, cocking his head side to side as he listened to different things.

“Seriously? Now I understand why you get so mad when I stop mid-suck,” Malia said with a pointed look.

“Eh, he's had worse,” Stiles said as he hopped off the bed. Malia let her head fall back onto the pillow and groaned in frustration. Then Stiles stood in front of the mirror, looking himself up and down. “Come here.”

She maneuvered off the bed, hissing at the ache in her groin. She thought about pulling one off real quick but she wondered if Stiles would find it rude. Next to him in the mirror, she finally came eye to eye with herself, with Stiles, and it was incredibly weird.

Then she noticed a piece of paper on his dresser. “What's this?”

He glanced at it. “Oh that's a note about some plans Lydia and I were making up about the witch.”

“When does your dad usually get up?”

“On Sundays? Any time between nine and noon, depending on how late he worked the night before.”

“Are you hungry? I'm starving,” she said.

Finally, he turned away from the mirror and looked at her. “Is this really what I'm like all the time?”

“Like what? Are you hot, it feels hot in here.” She went over to the window and opened it, making sure to stay off to the side to avoid any full frontals. Then crouched on the ground to sniff the air. “Wow, the air smells weird up here, with a human nose.”

He tapped her on the shoulder. “Here,” he said, a pill in the palm of his hand. “I think you're going to need this.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“It's adderall.”

“I don't need adderall.”

“You don't,” he said softly. “I do.” Then the pill dropped to the floor as Stiles shifted, his fangs dropping, claws outstretched, and he assumed a protective stance behind Malia. After a moment, he relaxed and looked at her with wide eyes. “I heard the newspaper hit the front door,” he said with a sheepish grin, going to run his fingers through his hair.

Malia jumped up and stopped him, pulling his hand to his face so he could see the claws were still out. “Be careful with these,” she said.

He stared at the hands in front of him and then gently touched the fangs that were still in place. “The shift comes on that fast?” he asked.

She shrugged before noticing something over his shoulder, the pill on the ground forgotten.

“What's this?” she asked and Stiles sighed behind her. Suddenly his room was twenty times more interesting than it ever had been before.

“I feel like you're going to burst into song any minute.”

“Why would I burst into song?”

“What's this, what's this, there's color everywhere!” Stiles sang.

“Is my voice really that bad?” she asked.

“What's this, there's white things in the air!” he continued, grabbing her hands and spinning her around the room. “What's this, I can't believe my eyes, I must be dreaming, wake up Jack, this isn't fair!”

“Who's Jack?” she asked as they danced.

Stiles laughed and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly. “When we're back to normal, I'm making you watch the Nightmare Before Christmas.”

 

-

 

The humor was gone from the room by the time Scott showed up. Malia had been able to dress herself easily but she'd had to turn around and help Stiles into her clothes and even then, he took to shifting and grumbling every few minutes.

“I don't like this,” he said at the table. Luckily, his father was still sleeping and they had a chance to make and drink some coffee. Malia didn't usually like coffee but when Stiles handed her a cup, she'd taken a sip anyway, and nearly downed the entire mug in a single gulp. Stiles, on the other hand, had winced and scowled at his own cup after his first sip and then put it down on the table.

“Come on, you love my body. And we had a fun morning,” she said.

“You don't get it,” he said and she felt her hackles begin to rise. “Seeing you... in my body...” He looked away from her. “It's like the nogitsune all over again. I know, I know you're not a demon but... you're still in my body, you know?”

She watched his chest heave as he tried to calm down and all of her anger disappeared immediately. “We'll figure it out, okay?” she said, reaching out to lay her hand over his. 

“I know,” he said, turning his hand palm up. Then he looked towards the front door. “Scott's here,” he said, getting up from the table. “I'll be right back.”

Malia stayed at the table, waiting, and nearly jumped out of her skin as Stiles's father wandered into the kitchen. 

“Hey kiddo,” he said and he ruffled her hair as he walked by. “Want any more coffee?”

“No. I'm good. Thank you,” she said stiffly.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine. Good.” Then she beamed at him.

It seemed to have a different effect than when she did it in her own body, though. Stiles's father looked at her and blinked. “I didn't think it was possible for you to get worse at lying and yet, here we stand.” After he hit the coffee pot to brew, he sat down. “Is this about Malia?”

“What?” she asked, knowing her eyes must be as round as saucers but unable to tone them down.

“I know she spends the night, okay. And I know,” he said, waving a hand around, “I know you don't need the safe sex talk or the talk about the birds and the bees, I think I've embarrassed the both of us for a lifetime with that one. And I know I can't stop her from coming over. If anyone were to rival you in stubbornness, it would be her.” Malia grinned at that. “But if you need condoms, if you need money for birth control, you just tell me. And don't piss off her dad, okay? I really don't need that on my hands.”

Her face fell. She'd spent so little time at home the last few weeks, she didn't even know how he would feel about her spending the night at Stiles's so often. Although, the fact that he hadn't called the cops regarding a missing person probably said enough in that area.

Stiles came back into the room trailed by Scott, both of them laughing, but their laughter cut off the minute they saw the Sheriff.

“Malia. Scott. Good morning.”

“Uh, sir, it's a little after noon,” Scott said.

The Sheriff glanced at the microwave. “It is. Would you like any coffee, Scott? Malia?”

They both shook their heads and Stiles was looking at Malia, obviously trying to sort out if she said anything to the Sheriff. She smiled at him.

“Uh, D... Sheriff, we kind of have things to do today, so um... yeah.”

The Sheriff looked at Malia. “I thought you were going to mow the lawn today.”

She smiled again. “Rain check?”

The Sheriff took a deep breath, no doubt about to argue with her, but Stiles jumped in. “Please, Sheriff, we've been so busy, he promised to take me out on a real date today. I promise he'll mow the lawn tomorrow.” Then Stiles gave the Sheriff his best smile but Malia was pretty sure he wasn't doing it right.

“All right,” the Sheriff said, wagging a finger at her. “But tomorrow, I expect you up at ten and mowing that lawn, you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. Then Stiles was pulling her up and out of the room.

“God, it's a good thing he never had a daughter,” Stiles whispered to her. “He is such a pushover when it comes to you.”

Malia was barely paying attention to him, sneezing when she smelled the fresh cut grass of the lawn next door, looking up at the sky, which was cloudless and sunny yet still seemed duller than normal.

The entire ride to Deaton's, she knew she drove them all nuts with her questioning but she didn't care. For her, it made the trip go faster.

Kira was already at the clinic when the three of them pulled up and Scott immediately got out and kissed her. “He has some ideas but he wants to check you guys first,” she said, holding the door open for them.

“Hop up onto the tables,” Deaton said, and for once Malia wasn't overwhelmed by the smells and sounds of the clinic. Stiles, on the other hand, was clutching his ears.

“Jesus Christ, is it always like this?” Stiles asked loudly.

Malia and Scott exchanged a look. “Yeah,” they said in unison.

“Wow, that was weird,” Scott said. “You're not Stiles but you just pulled a Stiles.”

Deaton stepped in front of her and looked in her eyes. It wasn't nearly as painful as when she'd had her physical after Scott and Stiles had convinced her to turn back into a human but it was difficult to stay still. Her body, or Stiles's body, kept telling her to move, to look over there, to say something, but she knew she needed to stay still. When Deaton was done, he went over to Stiles and did the same.

“What kind of witch was it?” Deaton asked.

“Kind of witch?” Stiles said. “What do you mean, what kind of witch? I thought they only came in one kind.”

Deaton clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Witches aren't created, they're not a part of the supernatural world like werewolves and werecoyotes. What they do isn't caused by biological changes. They decide what to do. They used to be humans, until spells and magic warped them, made them into something else. And they almost always latch onto some part of their humanity to shape what kind of witches they are.”

“How do you mean?” Scott asked.

“If a witch was harmed in life by someone near them falling to addiction, she might be attracted to addicts as a witch, to hurt them, to kill them, put spells on them to help try to heal them. Sometimes, if a witch is hurt by a significant other as a human, they might spend their entire life as a witch attracted to couples, maintaining that they stay together or, if they turned bitter, making sure they do anything to break the couple up.”

“So you're saying a witch can be good?” Scott said, throwing a look at Malia before realizing that he was supposed to be looking at her face, not Stiles's.

“That doesn't mean this one was!” Stiles yelled. “She attacked Parrish!”

“That doesn't really matter,” Kira said. Everyone looked at her. “She swapped your bodies. Why?”

“Who cares why?” Malia said.

“Because if we figure out why,” Stiles said, “we can figure out how to turn us back.”

“What did you do to her before she threw you aside like a tumbleweed?” Malia asked him.

“Me?” Stiles shrieked. “What makes you think I did something to cause this?”

“It had to have been.”

“Maybe it was when you went chasing after her with your chompers out!” he yelled.

“I ran after him with Derek, is Derek suffering the same thing with Braeden?”

Everyone went silent for a moment before Scott pulled out his phone. They all waited patiently as he tapped his foot, waiting for Derek to pick up. Then, “Hey, Derek, good buddy. Are you... are you okay? Experiencing anything... weird today?”

Malia waited a moment, annoyed when Stiles laughed, no doubt at something Derek said considering how Scott laughed at the exact same time. “No, I mean, you and Braeden aren't...” He paused, searching for the right word, and this time Stiles fell to the ground laughing as Scott blushed.

Malia hopped down and began to wander the room, restless and annoyed that she couldn't hear the other side of the conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I was just checking. … No, there's something weird going on but we're figuring it out. We'll let you know if we need you.”

“What about Lydia?” Stiles said quietly from his spot on the floor. “She threw the molotov at her.”

Scott punched Lydia's contact button on his phone and they waited again. Malia picked up a tool and Deaton immediately grabbed the other side and pushed it back onto the table with a smile. She wandered over to the window and played with the string, looking out into the parking lot, before realizing she'd made a knot of it. She pulled her finger free and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. They were all still looking at Scott waiting for Lydia to pick up, except Deaton who just had a smirk on his face.

“Lydia, hey! How are you? … Good, good. Shopping dates with moms are cool.” He scowled at Stiles when he snorted. “Listen, are you... okay? Experiencing anything weird? Still feel... like yourself? … Right. No, I'm just trying to figure something out. Stiles and Malia seem to be having some identity issues today.”

Malia smiled at Kira as she came up beside her. Then Kira patted Malia's arm, trying to be supportive.

Instantly, Malia felt the world spin and she went crashing into the wall. She blinked, trying to get a bearing on what had happened, when suddenly she had Scott in her face asking her if she was okay. She shook her head to clear it and then nodded. “What the hell was that?” she asked.

Then she noticed Stiles on the other side of the room. Stiles as in Stiles's face. And over near the table where she had been sitting was her own face. So if she wasn't in Stiles's body, and she wasn't in her own body, and Scott was crouched in front of her...

“Scott?”

Everyone looked across the room, where someone with Malia's face spoke.

“What am I doing over here?” she said.

Scott looked back at Malia and Malia shrugged.

“Okay, hold up!” Stiles said, standing up. “I am Stiles! Scott? You are Scott, right?” Scott nodded over his shoulder at Stiles and then looked back at Malia. “Malia, raise your hand.” Malia raised her hand and Scott's eyes widened. “Kira, raise your hand.” Near the table, Kira, with Malia's face on, raised her hand, claws out, wincing as she accidentally drew blood with her fangs. Malia winced in sympathy, hoping that would heal by the time she made her way back into her own body. Those type of wounds were as bad as accidentally biting the inside of your cheek – after you did it once, you ended up doing it again and again.

“How the hell did that happen?” Stiles asked.

“She patted my arm, like this,” Malia said, reaching out to touch Scott.

Scott launched away from her, across the room to where Kira sat. Then, realizing how close he was to Kira, he poked her in the arm. Nothing happened.

Everyone looked at Malia until Scott crawled across the floor and grabbed his cell phone. “Everything is under control, Lydia. Go back to shopping.”

“How is this under control?” Malia asked. “First I'm in Stiles's body, which, okay, weird but still okay because it's Stiles, I know his body almost as well as I know my own.” She ignored the way Stiles blushed at that. “But Kira? I have nothing against you, Kira, but this is just weird, okay?”

“You're telling me,” she said, rubbing her nose. “I can smell everything. Is that...?” She looked at Scott. “Do you smell burning?”

“When she touched you... or, when you touched her? There was something like an intense static discharge. You burned the atoms in the air,” he said.

“Are you sure you're Scott?” Stiles asked slowly.

Scott looked at him, affronted. “I've been doing my homework! And studying! I've been trying to get my grades up or my mom is going to take my bike away!”

“I did that?” Kira asked softly.

Scott turned back to her. “I think so,” he replied.

“Don't you two kiss,” Stiles said. “Just don't do it. I know you're still Kira but I don't want those lips touching those lips!” He pointed back and forth between them. 

Malia lifted her hand for the second time that day to inspect it and for the second time that day, she was surprised by what she saw. Though they weren't wiry and boney like Stiles's were, they weren't like her own, either. The nails were painted different and there were little nicks of scars along her fingers.

“Sword practice,” Kira said. “I may have slipped a few times.”

“Practice makes perfect,” she replied with a shrug. “I don't mind if you kiss, by the way.”

“Don't encourage them!” he said.

“So, it was Malia,” Deaton said, walking out of his office. “The spell affects her mainly. First, she swaps bodies with Stiles. Then, when she touches Kira, she swaps bodies with her, placing Stiles back in his own body.”

Everyone turned to look at Malia. “Why Malia?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, why me?”

Deaton shrugged. “Perhaps it has something to do with being a werecoyote. The witch may have had bad experiences with werecoyotes in the past. Or perhaps it has something to do with your relationship with Stiles.”

“Our relationship?” Stiles asked. “There's nothing wrong with our relationship.”

Malia thought back to their argument the night before but put it out of her mind. That had been after the witch attack, not before. And anyway, how could the witch know anything about their personal lives?

“Maybe it has something to do with Peter,” Deaton said. “Whatever it is, we need you to stay calm and stay put. And try not to touch anyone.”

“You should probably explain to her how not to use the electricity. That could end badly,” Scott said to Kira.

“That's okay, it took me months to figure out how to use...” She trailed off as Malia's fingertips danced with electricity.

It felt interesting, the jolts pulsing through her hands and she flared them up into a cone shape before letting them flicker out.

“She's a quick learner, my girl is,” Stiles said with a proud smile on his face. He came over to her, his lips beginning to purse, but she held up her hands with sparks lighting up her fingertips. “Hey, whoa.”

“Don't touch me. You saw what happened last time. Besides, you have your body back. Maybe you should go mow the lawn for your dad.”

Stiles looked at her, incredulous. “I'm not leaving you alone,” he said.

“Well, we're leaving,” Scott said. “Maybe Derek has some old books in his vault regarding body swaps or witches or something.”

“That vault has never been useful in the past, why would it start now?” Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged. “You want to just sit around and stare at each other waiting to see what happens next?”

Stiles sulked.

“I didn't think so.”

“Kira should probably stay here, however,” Deaton said. “Perhaps you and Stiles should go.”

“I just said -” Stiles started to say.

“I know what you said. We need to minimize the possibilities, though. Not to mention, aren't you one of the top researchers of this little pack?”

Stiles stared at Malia, ready to argue.

“He's right,” she said. “Go. Find out how to save me.”

That seemed like the right choice of words because Stiles got his determined face on. She had to spark him once when he tried to kiss her again but then he was out the door with Scott, leaving Deaton, Kira, and Malia alone.

“So there is nothing you can think of that would make you a target for the witch?” Deaton asked, crouching down in front of her.

Malia held her hands in front of her, letting the electricity bounce from one hand to the other. It felt easy, like a watered down version of shifting.

“Nothing,” she said. Deaton sighed and walked into his office and they could hear the windows log-in sound as his computer turned on.

Kira sat down next to her and watched her for several minutes.

“I'm sorry,” Malia said.

“For what?”

“For getting you involved in this. For stealing your body.”

“You didn't steal my body,” Kira said with a chuckle. “Someone else stole my body and shoved you into it. You're as much a victim in this as I am.”

“Still. Apparently it's my fault.”

“That has yet to be determined. Let's talk about something else. Where did you learn to dance?”

Malia laughed. “It's not about knowing how to dance, it's about knowing your body. Moving the way it wants to go.”

Kira pursed her lips like she was contemplating her next words before blundering on. “For someone who was a coyote for half her life, you sure know your own body pretty well.”

Malia felt her smile fade. If she knew her own body, she wouldn't accidentally shift so often. She wouldn't let her eyes glow during sex, even if Stiles did find it sexy. She wouldn't let the full moon get to her the way it did. “I wouldn't say that exactly,” she said.

“You've got to,” Kira said. “I haven't even been in your body twenty minutes and I've already nearly shifted a bunch of times. I even cut your lip! I'm sorry about that, by the way.”

“Don't worry about it, I do it all the time. The fact that you haven't shifted yet says a lot, actually. You've been training with your mom, haven't you?”

Kira nodded. “Last few weeks, we've been training really hard. She says she's weaker, even though she doesn't seem it. Apparently, a kitsune's lifespan is somewhere around a thousand years. So. She's apparently old.”

Malia side-eyed Kira. “Does that mean you're going to live to be a thousand?”

Kira bit a finger and jumped when she realized it was a claw, and then she smiled apologetically at Malia. “I try not to think about it, actually.”

“How long does a werewolf usually live?” Malia asked.

“I don't know. I've been too nervous to ask. I'm pretty sure I won't like the answer.”

“Not everything is about boys, you know,” Malia said. “I mean, I love Stiles but it might not last with us. And that's okay. It's important that it's good now, you know?”

“Are you really so blasé about losing him?” Kira asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I'll be devastated if he ever left me. But it could happen. He could die. I could die. He could find someone else. And I don't even know how long werecoyotes live. I might outlive him by a few years, a few decades, or a few centuries.”

“It's not about Scott,” Kira said after a moment of silence. “It's about Scott and everyone else I love, everyone else I might come to love. What if I have children and they're not kitsunes? Mom was talking about how... I had siblings.” Kira glanced at her and Malia was surprised to see how sad her eyes looked. “Brothers and sisters. But they all lived hundreds of years ago. She said after a point, she just couldn't do it anymore. Have children. Watching them all grow up and then die? It was too heartbreaking. And falling in love and watching them grow old and die? Over and over and over...” Kira shook her head. “I don't want to think about it.”

“I don't blame you.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Malia had never really given it a lot of thought, the fact that she might outlive Stiles, might outlive everyone she will ever come to love. But to be faced with the inevitability, knowing you'd probably live to see the year three thousand? Malia looked over her and felt a sudden respect for Kira, knowing she was weighed down by those thoughts every day.

“How are you doing that?” Kira asked suddenly.

Malia glanced at her then back at her fingertips, where she was still playing with the electricity. “There's this... okay, feel inside? Feel that... bright spot?”

Kira nodded.

“That's the coyote. It's like your kitsune powers, right? But bigger, brighter. In your body, all I have to do is... well I just kind of poke it at certain points, right, and it just...” She trailed off, letting the sparks from her fingertips do the talking. “With the coyote, though, you kind of have to seize it. Wrap completely around it and control it from the outside. Give it a poke. Not too hard, though.”

Malia watched as her own body transformed, her eyes suddenly glowing, her fangs dropping down, her claws gripping the floor as Kira struggled to control it. Apparently, Kira was a quick learner. “I... I shouldn't have said that,” she said, getting up and backing into Deaton's office. “Kira, you can control it, remember how you shoot electricity out of your hands? It's like that! Remember your mother's training!”

Kira roared and Malia slammed the door shut, feeling it tremble as Kira slammed into it. “Kira, listen to me! You're safe here, no one is threatening you! You're okay! Find your anchor!” She resorted to Stiles's favorite line, even though she'd spent years as a coyote not knowing what an anchor even was. Maybe it would help Kira, though.

The door rattled again.

“Deaton, do something!” She turned around to find Deaton filling a syringe. 

He glanced at her. “Do you think you could restrain her?”

“In this form? Are you kidding?” The door shook again as Kira slammed into it. “Call Scott!”

“He won't get here in time,” Deaton said. “Back away from the door and get ready!”

“I'm not ready! I'm not going to be able to restrain her! Not without the chance of killing her!”

“It's her or us!” he yelled back at her.

“No!” she screamed, shooting a bolt of lighting to the ground in front of him, sparking enough energy to send him flying into the desk behind him. Then she opened the door and stepped aside. Kira came flying into the room and, upon seeing Deaton incapacitated, turned on Malia, her lips pulled back over her teeth. “You want me? Come and get me,” she said before turning and running through the rest of the clinic, tipping tables and chairs as she went, hearing Kira slamming into them one by one as she gave chase.

Then she ran back into the office, sliding to the other side of the doorframe, and waited. She prayed Kira's reflexes were as good as her own as she shot an arm out, finding fur as Kira launched into the room. Malia's fingers sank down onto the skin at the back of her neck and gripped, yanking as hard as she could to negate her momentum but still being carried forward a couple of feet. Kira gave a yelp but Malia held on. “You're okay,” she whispered. “Let go, Kira. Let go. I know you want to hold on, I know something is telling you that there is danger nearby, but there's not. You're okay. I'm here.”

Malia barely noticed the movement as Deaton sank the needle into the other side of Kira's neck. She whimpered and then sagged slowly into Malia's arms.

“What did you just inject into my body?” she growled. She didn't know Kira's voice could do that.

“A sedative. Your body will be fine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Was that entirely necessary?”

“Am I missing something?” Lydia said from the doorway. Both of them jumped at her voice. “Why was Malia attacking Kira? Where are the boys?”

“Lydia, why are you here?” Malia asked.

“Scott called me from here. I found out some information on the witch and Parrish and I figured I'd meet you all here. Where'd they go?”

“They went to get Derek, to see if he could help with the witch,” Deaton said. “You shouldn't have come.”

Lydia glanced at Malia. “Do you know you have a bandage in your hair?”

Neither of them were fast enough to stop her before she was touching Kira's hair, pulling the bandage out, electric shock sizzling the air around them.

She came to to the sound of a scream. Kira, most likely back in her own body, was on the other side of the room. Malia would have had sympathy for her if she wasn't busy feeling her own head for blood. There had to have been blood, as much as her head pounded. And, was she mistaken or was she hearing things?

“Do you hear that?” she asked, wincing and looked at them out of half-closed eyes.

“What the hell happened?” Kira said.

“What do you remember?” Deaton asked.

“I remember Malia telling me to feel for the brightness... and then it was a little fuzzy... Did I attack you?” she asked suddenly, looking at Malia out of her own eyes again.

“You did. You didn't hurt me though,” she said, pinching the back of her neck. “Seriously, do you hear that?”

“Why did everything go black though?” Kira asked.

“I gave you a shot. A sedative. I couldn't take the chance.” Malia tried glaring at him for his nerve to act like he was apologetic about it but she couldn't find it in her. The pain in her head was too great.

“So, if I'm me... is that Lydia in Malia's body now?” Kira asked.

Malia looked down at her form, now human and naked, and pouted. She felt bad for Lydia, and bad for herself for when she finally got back in her body. She was starting to miss it, despite how fun Stiles's boner had been or how fun Kira's electricity had been. “Someone get me a blanket, okay?”

Deaton disappeared into the back room.

“What's she doing here anyway?” Kira asked.

“She said...” Malia said, flinching as she heard a voice echo in the distance. She looked around the room for a moment and, when Kira was still staring at her waiting for her to continue, she did. “She said she had more information about the witch and about Parrish.”

“What was it?”

Malia shrugged. “She touched me before she could tell us. Then we swapped and now she's out cold. Thanks to you,” she said with a glare directed at Deaton.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I did what I had to.”

Kira's phone rang and she glanced at everyone before answering. “Hi Scott. No, it's me, Kira. … Um... Lydia. She showed up without warning, saying something about the witch and Parrish, and then the swap happened. She's okay. I mean, Lydia's out cold but Malia's okay. … Oh, um. We had an incident. Everyone's okay though!” She winced and held the phone away from her for a moment before holding the phone out to Malia. “Stiles wants to talk to you.”

Malia accepted the phone. “Can someone dim the lights? They're really bright, don't you think they're bright?”

“Malia? Is that you?”

“Hi Stiles. It's me. Does she feel like this all the time?” she asked.

“God this is so weird,” he said, almost to himself. Then to her, he said, “Who?”

“Lydia. The minute I got into her body, her head was pounding. And I hear these... these voices? They're everywhere. Does she deal with this all the time?”

Stiles was silent for a moment. “She's complained about headaches once or twice. But I remember even when she nearly died from Peter's bite, she never hit the morphine button. Not once. And even I could tell she was in a lot of pain. So who knows? Maybe she does feel like that all the time.”

Malia stared at Lydia, finally covered up with one of Deaton's blankets, another one pillowed under her head. “She's so strong,” she said softly.

“Yeah. She is. And so are you. You're handling this wonderfully,” he said. “Pretty sure if I were in your shoes, I'd be going crazy by now.”

“If I keep listening to these voices for much longer, I will. Have you guys found anything?”

“Not yet. We apparently interrupted Derek and Braeden doing some -” Malia heard a thump and then another thump as the phone hit the ground, then some rustling as the phone was picked back up. “Needless to say, we got off to a slow start,” he said, grunting. She heard Derek mumbling in the background. “Braeden thinks she might know something but she's got the flash drive with all her information locked up in another vault somewhere, so we're on our way to get that now.” Then he paused for a moment. “You are okay, right?”

“Yeah, Stiles. I'm fine. Go be a hero and save the day.”

“I... okay. I'll see you soon,” he said.

After she hung up, she held her head in her hands between her legs, grateful that Lydia had worn chinos under her skirt. “This is awful,” she muttered.

“You know what was weird?” Kira said a while later. “I keep thinking about this. The witch attacked Parrish, left him with a few cracked ribs, a broken sternum, a concussion, and multiple lacerations, right? For no reason at all. And then, when we attack, she barely retaliated. We were able to push her back, almost a full mile, before finally reacting and her reaction was to put a spell on Ma... you,” she corrected herself, “that made you swap bodies. How does that make sense?”

Malia mumbled but said nothing. Her brain hurt and she couldn't think straight.

“No, really. I mean, if the witch was strong enough to do all of that to Parrish, wouldn't she have been able to hurt Malia? Why put a spell on her?”

“Perhaps she used all of her energy on Parrish and wasn't expecting you guys to retaliate. Maybe that spell was the last of her energy.”

Kira hummed. “I don't think so. There was an energy in the air that had nothing to do with me. She was strong. I could tell.”

“Do you have a theory or are you just talking out loud?” Malia asked.

“They were two different witches,” Lydia said. Everyone looked down to where she was still curled under the blankets, her eyes open and watching them. “Why the hell am I naked, and why the fuck am I looking at myself when I'm not looking in a mirror?”

“Calm down,” Kira said.

Malia rolled her eyes at her and stared.

“Okay, bad choice of words,” Kira said.

“We swapped bodies,” Malia said.

“We? We what?” Lydia said.

“You and me. Malia. I'm in your body, you're in mine. We tried to warn you but you were too quick.”

Lydia sat up slowly, keeping the blanket draped around her carefully, even though it wasn't technically her own body she was keeping covered. Malia thanked her silently for that. “You know. I'm starting to really hate witches.”

“What makes you think they're two different witches?” Deaton asked.

“I visited Parrish this morning. He was finally awake. He told me the last thing he saw before he passed out when the witch attacked was purple eyes. Bright purple eyes.”

“And?” Deaton asked.

“The witch we fought last night had green eyes. Like, bright, bright green eyes,” Kira said.

Deaton tapped his pencil against the desk. “That poses a dilemma. There are two witches then. One who had it out for Parrish and one who had it out for Malia.”

“She might not have had it out for Malia,” Kira said. “For all we know, she was only reacting to us attacking her. We didn't know she wasn't the right witch.”

“So Scott and the others need to be on the lookout for two witches. Someone needs to call them.

Lydia stood up, her blanket somehow looking majestic as she clutched it to her body. Malia glared at her, wondering if she could ever make her own body look like that when she was in it.

“I'm not going to just sit here and wait while the boys run around saving the day. We are going back to Malia's so I can get some clothing. Then we are going to find these witches and beat them until they undo the spell.”

“We have to find the right one,” Malia mumbled.

“I don't give a damn which witch we find. Whichever it is, they're going to fix this. Now get up.”

“Lydia, I don't think this is a good plan,” Deaton said.

“You got something better planned, Emissary?” she snapped.

Malia smirked as Deaton shut his mouth with a click.

“Now get up, girls. We're going shopping.”

 

-

 

Luckily, they drove by Stiles's house to find the Sheriff gone. Most of Malia's clothes were there anyway but, to avoid questions, they would have continued on to Malia's actual place of residence if the Sheriff had been home.

Inside, Lydia quickly changed and Malia scoured the cabinets for painkillers. She kicked herself in the ass for not requesting any from Deaton but the blamed it on the fact that the headache was making it difficult to think straight.

“Lydia, seriously, does your head hurt like this all the time or did I hit it during the swap?”

Lydia took one look at her before diving into her purse. “I'm sure the swap didn't help but yeah. It's the voices. Here, take one of these,” she said, holding out a pill.

“How do you deal with it?” she asked.

Lydia shrugged. “You just do. What's the alternative?”

Malia was at a loss there but she felt her respect for Lydia rising by the second.

“Deaton said witches choose certain kinds of people to attack,” Kira started to explain.

“I know,” Lydia said, looking for all the world like she belonged behind the wheel of a car. “I've been doing a lot of research since finding out I'm a banshee. I've already researched the sheriff's department, none of the other officers have been attacked recently, so it can't be them.”

“What if it's men in general?” Kira asked.

“I doubt it,” Lydia said, “but we can't rule it out. Let's start with the smaller groups first. Now since we don't actually know what Jord... Parrish is, we can't exactly go finding out if any others have been attacked.”

Kira and Malia looked at each other at the slip.

“I kept the deadpool since we took care of the benefactor and I checked into all the people on it. None of them have been attacked recently either, so either none of them are what Parrish is or it's not attacking supernatural creatures in general. However,” she said with a dramatic finger up in the air. “There have been some cases of men being put in the hospital recently.”

“Men,” Kira said with a pointed look.

“Yes, men who have, specifically, been in the military.”

They rode in silence for a moment, Malia trying not to moan in pain as she waited for the pill to kick in. When she'd been in Stiles's body, she'd ignored his suggestion to take adderall, instead reveling in the way he felt. And Kira has been nearly a piece of cake, enjoying the powers that she had. But Lydia was such a mass of uncontrolled pain and powers that she didn't even know where to begin. And the source of the power was completely different so it wasn't even like she could put a damper on it if she didn't even know where it was.

Lydia rolled to a stop and looked out her window. “Where better to prey on military folk than a military graveyard?” Then she got out of the car and started walking.

Kira and Malia trailed along behind her, trusting that Lydia knew what she was doing. She forced herself to look at the gravestones, pausing briefly when she saw Lahey before moving on.

Finally, it seemed as though the pill was kicking in and she was able to open her eyes a little more to the glaring sun, which through Stiles's eyes had seemed dull but through Lydia's seemed bright and oppressive.

“There,” Lydia said in a whisper.

Sure enough, ahead of them, they saw a flicker of movement in a dark shade of trees, a tiny glow of purple poking through the leaves.

Malia looked at Lydia. “You're in my body.”

Lydia glanced at her. “Thanks for keeping me up to speed but that was yesterday's lesson.”

“We're looking for a green eyed witch but you led us to the purple eyed witch. Despite not having your own body to fight with. Despite the danger. And you knew she'd be here.”

“What she did to Jordan was unforgiveable,” Lydia said in a low voice. “I'm actually kind of grateful for the chance to be in your body. Maybe if I can figure out how to shift, I can rip her to pieces.”

Malia went to stand in front of Lydia. “I can barely control my shift,” she said. “I'd really rather you not try.”

“Are you telling me what she did to him was okay?” Lydia asked, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“I'm saying right now probably isn't the best time to exact vengeance.”

“It's not vengeance,” Lydia said, her eyes beginning to glow. “It's justice.” Then her claws popped out and she crouched, slinking off into the trees and disappearing.

“Stay here,” Kira said, pulling out her sword and following behind.

“Screw that,” she said, leaving the sun for the shade. She could barely see, led only by the sound of their footsteps, which seemed to grow softer and more distant with every second.

Then she heard a deafening howl and a sizzle of electricity in the air, sparkling lights coming from above, and she realized how far behind she'd fallen.

She dashed ahead, tripping a few times in Lydia's stylish yet inconvenient boots, arriving just in time to find the witch with her hands around Lydia's neck. Her neck.

So Malia did the first thing her instincts told her to. She screamed.

The witch immediately dropped Lydia, who hugged the ground in an effort to get away from the sound. Kira, who was wincing but keeping an eye on the prize, focused briefly on her sword, which started to flicker with bolts surrounding it, before throwing it like a spear into the heart of the witch. Purple eyes gazed at them one by one before the glow winked out and the witch dropped to the ground, her skin melting and burning the grass like an acid as she disintegrated.

“One down,” Lydia said hoarsely. “One to go.”

 

-

 

Instead of returning to Deaton's, or even going to someone's house to wait for an update, they decided to go where they'd last seen the witch. After Lydia's molotov, the witch had disappeared, but she hadn't disintegrated like the other had. And Lydia hadn't felt her die. Since watching the purple eyed witch die, Malia knew Lydia wouldn't have missed it – it felt like a razor slicing down her brain as the witch had exhaled her last breath.

Stiles and Scott were already there and the minute they noticed the girls pulling up, they held out their hands in mirror images of frustration.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked the minute they got out of the car.

Only he asked Lydia instead of Malia.

“Stiles,” Malia said, waving. 

He glanced at her, then back at Lydia, before rolling his eyes. “Oh god,” he said, walking over to Malia. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking to kill us some witches!” she said, feeling the spring return to her step. She still heard the voices but the pill had made them duller, easier to manage. “Where's Derek?”

“Said he had an errand, he'll meet up with us later. You've already been in three people, there's no reason to chance another one. How do we know being in more and more people doesn't do more and more damage to you?”

She looked at his lips for a moment, wishing fiercely that she could kiss them, knowing if she did it could cause another swap.

“Stop looking at my lips,” he said. “You're changing the subject without even talking.”

“I'm the one the witch attacked. It's best if I'm here. What if I need to be in direct contact with her to undo the spell?”

Stiles's eye twitched as he resisted yelling at her and she smirked at him, loving the way he looked when he got frustrated. “I love you,” she said suddenly.

His eye stopped twitching and he stared at her, his mouth open. “Don't!” he said suddenly. “Don't say things like that when I can't kiss you! That's not fair. Take it back until later. Tell me later, when you've got your own body back.”

She laughed. “Okay. I'll tell you later that I love you.”

“You're such a jerk,” he said, turning away from her.

They were in an abandoned parking lot, the store and the gravel overrun by foliage and the environment.

“Let's split up,” Scott said.

“Said no smart person ever,” Stiles countered. “Have our scary movie marathons taught you nothing?”

“Teams of two. And me. You and Malia go that way, Lydia and Kira go that way. I'm going this way.”

“What if we get attacked?” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I heard you whine the other day when you got a papercut in math class and I was in study hall on the other side of the school. Pretty sure I'll know if you get attacked.”

Scott patted him on the shoulder and turned away, and Stiles grumbled as he headed in the direction Scott had pointed. “Thinks he knows everything,” Stiles muttered. “Friggin know-it-all jerkbag.”

“I can still hear you!” Scott yelled.

“Apparently you can hear me from across the high school, did you really think I was trying to keep those comments to myself?”

“I love you too, Stiles!” Scott yelled, giving them air kisses.

Stiles glanced at her. “How you holding up?”

“Let's just find the witch, okay? I'm sick of Lydia's brain.”

They searched for a good fifteen minutes, doing a clean sweep of the area, before meeting back in the middle.

“Maybe she's not here anymore,” Stiles said. “This was a long shot anyway.”

“I feel like she is, though,” Scott said. “I can just feel it.”

Then he glanced over to a patch of trees and they all followed his gaze. A moment later, Derek came flying through the air, landing in the gravel behind them.

“Found the witch,” he grunted as he hefted himself back onto his feet. Behind him came Braeden in a tuck and roll, shooting bullet after bullet behind her.

Scott swept an arm to either side of him, the typical mom pose when slamming on the brakes too hard. Except this time, the person closest to him was Malia. She could barely even squeak before he was touching her.

This time, the swap was somehow gentler. Malia wondered if it had something to do with the fact that Kira wasn't involved this time and therefore neither was electricity. After all, her and Stiles had slept through their swap.

“Shit,” Scott said with her voice, off to the side, and she found herself in the very front of their pack.

Then she felt it. The wave after wave of power coursing through Scott's body. She glanced back at him, feeling herself start to panic as the shift came on. This was nothing like what Lydia or Kira had felt like. This was more, so much more. More power, more strength, more uncontrollable urge to protect. She felt the fangs dig into her lip and tongue, her claws extending, longer, coarser than her own. 

She would have thought that since Scott and her were closer in what they were that their swap would be the least challenging. She would have been wrong.

“Everyone back up!” Scott yelled, ushering everyone back, helping Lydia off the ground from where she'd fallen when she'd been jarringly pushed back into her own body.

Then she felt a bubbling up inside of her, a rumbling from the base of her stomach rushing up to the top, and she let it out without even thinking. She howled into the air, feeling her eyes shift, seeing things so much more differently than she ever had before.

This was the power of a true alpha's body.

Derek went bounding past her and she felt a sense of deja vu. Only this time, it wasn't a struggle to keep up with him. If anything, she felt him struggling to keep up with her.

She jumped at the witch, imagining her teeth sinking into the witch's flesh, imagining how good it would feel.

The witch slipped away from her by inches and Malia felt the growl starting up already. When she landed and looked back, she saw Derek, only half formed, holding the witch in place, a hand around her throat, and it seemed like he was speaking in her ear, but the language was strange and the blood pounding in her ears was deafening.

She felt her hands and feet hitting the ground as she gained speed, running back towards the witch again. At the last second, Derek and the witch blew apart from each other, Derek going one way, the witch going the other, and Malia was forced to skid to a stop. She glanced at Derek to make sure he was okay and, when he seemed to be getting back up already, she turned away, back towards the witch. The witch held out a hand, as if in peace, but Malia scoffed at it, crouching down to get ready for another sprint attack.

Then a body fell on her. She kept her balance, just barely, and something felt weird, wrong. And that was when she felt it – the swirling feeling, the intense heat, similar but more extreme than she'd felt the night before when she'd been blasted with hot air. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire and she screamed for what felt like an eternity before blackness claimed her.

 

-

 

When she woke up, she was in Stiles's bed. He was leaning over her, stroking hair out of her face.

“Please tell me I'm not still wearing Scott's body because that would be incredibly weird,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“Oh no, Scott and I have cuddle sessions on Tuesday nights. Today's Sunday,” he said with a grin. “How you feeling?”

“Am I back?”

“You're back.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Derek saved the day. He's getting good at doing that,” Stiles said, surprised. “I'm gonna have to start sabotaging his every day routines so he doesn't get a big ego.”

“But how?”

“He found a spell in Braeden's beastiary. A Reveal Your True Nature spell. Whatever that means. It was enough to get her to undo the spell, anyway.”

“That doesn't make sense,” she said. “I mean. Nothing really makes sense, I just woke up and my head hurts and apparently I've been asleep for twelve hours after having been inside the bodies of four of my friends. But you know. Just another weekend in Beacon Hills I guess.”

Stiles grinned. Then his smile faded. “She hit you with a spell to know yourself. Does that make any sense?”

Malia thought for a moment. “Not really?”

He ran the back of his fingers over her forehead again and she let her eyes slip shut at the feeling.

A know yourself spell? How could she know herself if she'd spent the entire time in other people's bodies? Kira, who struggled daily with her powers even though Malia had tapped into them easily. Lydia, who was physically afflicted because of her powers to the point where she needed medicine. Scott who was so full of power and ability that Malia had been bowled over by it. Even her time in Stiles's body, where he'd been so restless and unable to focus that she probably knew more about his bedroom and Scott's car than she'd ever wanted to know.

How did any of that reflect on who she was?

Then her eyes snapped open. “Maybe it does make sense,” she said softly.

“Hmm?”

“I've been struggling... with my shifting. Ever since you guys found me and I turned back into a human, I've been struggling with it. And I told you that you didn't understand. I felt like no one understood. Everyone thinks it's so easy to just be human, to just know how to do things. But... after being inside all of you, feeling the way you guys do on a daily basis... no one has it figured out, do they? No one knows what they're doing.”

“We're all just really good at pretending,” Stiles said.

She reached up and traced the outline of his ear, making him close his eyes and shudder. “I love you,” she said.

His eyes snapped open. “Say it again,” he said.

“I love you so much,” she said.

He crushed his lips to her and she felt the welcome weight of him as he covered her body with his own. “I love you, too,” he said.

She smiled, glad to be back in her own skin. Even with all the kinks she had yet to work out and all the accidental shifting, she wouldn't trade it for the world.


End file.
